


A Good Day to Live

by that_runneth



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-13
Updated: 2011-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-27 06:53:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_runneth/pseuds/that_runneth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It means ‘good day to die’,” replied Sam without turning back from the dark window. His fingers were fumbling with his tie. Just now he realized that his hands were trembling."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Day to Live

   “Hoka hey,” whispered Sam as he was watching the arriving cars from the window of the ballroom. Behind him the buffet tables had already been assembled and now the plates and bowls of food were brought in by the crew.  
   
  “What does that mean?” asked one of the men that were standing behind him. It was the higher voice, the younger one which had not been altered by decades of smoking.  
   
  “It means ‘good day to die,’” replied Sam without turning back from the dark window. His fingers were fumbling with his tie. Just now he realized that his hands were trembling.  
   
  “We should cancel this,” said the older man. “They say there is no threat; they scanned the building for possible explosives and they screen the guests too. But it just doesn’t worth it. Let’s cancel the event.”  
   
  Sam smiled and turned around. He faced Alan Bradley, his guardian, tall and brooding in his black tuxedo. He appeared to be anxious as well.  
   
  “No need for that,” he said. “You remember, it was their battle cry.”  
   
  “I would prefer you using some other term as your battle cry,” said Alan. He stepped closer to arrange Sam’s tie which he had messed up with his fumbling.  
   
  “This may be a good day for deresolution,” said the third man in their company and they both turned to him – one of the waiters who was carrying a bowl of punch turned and stared at him too. “But not for you, son of Flynn.”  
   
  The young man was looking at them with serious expression on his face, in his black suit. Sam and Alan looked at one another, just to see the same awkward question on the other’s face; how could they have gotten in this situation?  
   
\---  
   
  It started with the letters. The first threatening letters came in with the business mail to the ENCOM office and Sam quickly discarded them as messages from some lunatic. It was the third or fourth mail that actually contained something else than the usual short message. That letter did not even make it to Sam, because the mailroom attendant picked out the suspicious delivery after touching the bullet through the paper.  
   
  They reported the threat to the police and doubled the security in the building. Upon Alan’s insistence Sam finally left his place at the river and moved into a high-rise apartment building in downtown. The building had tight admission system and rigorous security guards, still Alan persisted that Sam should get an own bodyguard.  
   
  “This is ridiculous,” replied Sam, when the idea came up again. They were sitting in the large study on the Grid; they were supposed to finish the sketch of the new transportation routes of the system, instead of that they began to argue about Sam’s safety again. “Let’s drop it.”  
   
  “What is it?” asked Tron who was sitting at the window with his digital tablet.  
   
  “Don’t…” yelled Sam, but Alan turned to his creature and explained the situation to him. Tron collapsed his pad.  
   
  “What do they want?” he asked.  
   
  “They want him to resign,” replied Alan. “To give back the power to the board.”  
   
  “So the board members sent the messages?”  
   
  “The police couldn’t trace back the letters. They could come from a board member, from members, or it can be some lone madman. We don’t know.”  
   
  “Why don’t you get a bodyguard?” asked Tron from Sam.  
   
  “I don’t need it. This is exaggeration. I am either at home or at the office. If there is any real threat, they can’t get to me.”  
   
  Alan was shaking his head.  
   
  “I can be your bodyguard,” said Tron. The two Users looked at him.  
   
  “Tron, this problem is on the other side,” said Alan in a pleasant tone that he always used when he talked to his program.  
   
  “I’ve been on other side, you brought me there.”  
   
  “Yes, to take a look around. But for a longer period of time? And what if you get hurt outside?”  
   
  “Me?” asked Tron, aggrieved. “I’m not getting hurt.”  
   
  None of them replied and the program went back to his pad. He did not offer any additional comment, but he was sulking obviously. Sam was thinking.  
   
  “Well,” he said, “I could use your assistance out there.”  
   
  “Fine,” said Tron without looking up, like he had not been waiting for those words at all.  
   
  It went surprisingly well. Tron’s presence was not annoying and Sam did feel safe when he was around. He had to tidy up his new apartment beforehand; he was living surrounded by halfway unpacked boxes since his moving. Tron occupied the sofa bed in the living room. He wore that pair of jeans, shirt and jacket that Sam had given him for his first visit. In the morning he accompanied Sam on the way to the office and was hanging around until the usual business lunch – which was a good excuse to get a black suit for him. Since Quorra’s arrival Sam knew that programs that wore the same outfit during their lifetime did not really care about clothes. In the afternoon Sam was working in the newly assembled server room and that was something in which Tron actually could help him. In the evening they went home together; there was not any security problem or threat and no other suspicious mail arrived after Tron’s appearance.  
   
  As much as he hated Sam had to attend his business duties in the mornings. He felt bad for the program; Tron was comfortable around people, but not enough to get out to the street on his own. Soon Tron found the corporate gym of the building and from that point he was spending the time there during Sam’s meetings.  
   
  “Well,” said Sam on the phone, “look at it like that. At least he spends some time away from his regular job. They don’t get holiday leave anyway.”  
   
  “As it seems to me he doesn’t take it as a holiday,” replied Alan. It was late in the evening. Sam was standing at the window of his bedroom, with his phone in his hand.  
   
  “No, he couldn’t be any more serious about this mission. But still nothing. I guess it was some lunatic that lost interest by now.”  
   
  “I hope that is true. Especially with this charity event ahead. With the crowd and the press around the last thing we need is this. Are you home already?”  
   
  “Sure.”  
   
  “It’s good to see that you take the situation seriously.”  
   
  “Even if I wouldn’t, I can’t go out, because my bodyguard goes to the bed early.”  
   
  “Well… Good night then, see you in the office tomorrow.”  
   
  ---  
   
   Next day in the morning Tron was running on the treadmill in the ENCOM’s gym. Sam was on a meeting; he was supposed to call Tron when it ended. This part of the gym was empty at that hour. The gym had a halfway tinted glass wall, on the other side there was a hall with several offices. The glass door of the room opened and a young man entered. He took a look around and then he went to the treadmill next to Tron’s.  
   
  “Hi,” he said to Tron with a bright smile. The program looked at him: the newcomer had dark brown hair and glasses. He wore brand new training outfit – at the back of his neck a price tag hung from his T-shirt.  
   
  “Hi,” said Tron. He had one of Sam’s old long-sleeved T-shirts and shorts on, only his shoes were new. The other man adjusted the settings of his machine and began to jog.  
   
  “You must be working for the company, huh?” the man asked after a few minutes with the same wide smile.  
   
  “Yes,” replied Tron.  
   
  “Are you related to Alan Bradley?”  
   
  “Yes,” said Tron. The man was staring at him, smiling brightly and expectantly. “He’s my uncle.”  
   
  “Oh, I see.”  
   
  They were running for a few more minutes. Every time when Tron looked at the man he met the same smile. He started to feel awkward.  
   
  “You know, I would lift some weight,” said the other man soon after, “but I need some help with the exercise. Do you feel like going to the bench?”  
   
  “Alright,” replied Tron and stepped down from the treadmill. The man put some weight on the bar and began the push ups. He started to slow down, his face reddening at the third lift.  
   
  “What’s your name?” he asked, when his arm was stretched.  
   
  “Well… Alan Bradley,” said Tron. “Junior.”  
   
  “Really?” asked the man with another wide smile. “I am Edward Dillinger, Jr.”  
   
  Tron looked down at him. The young man’s face was red, he tried to push the weight upwards. The bar did not reach the rack, instead of that it started to descend. Tron put his hands on his hips. A smile appeared on his face, for the first time since Junior’s arrival. The other man let out a strained laugh.  
   
  “Pal, this bar will choke me in ten seconds,” he gasped. Tron was smiling at him without moving a finger. Then he reached down and lifted the bar before the metal could have touched down. The weight clicked back to the rack. Junior sat up, breathing heavily.  
   
  “I’m a bit out of shape,” he explained. The cell phone began to ring in Tron’s pocket.  
   
  “I have to go now,” he said.  
   
  “It was nice to meet…” said Junior, but Tron was storming out of the gym by then.  
   
\---  
   
  Later in the afternoon Sam and Alan left the server room to get a cup of coffee. There was a vending machine in the hall, next to the elevator. They were drinking from their plastic cups, standing in front of the window on the corridor. Some chatter came from other rooms around, but nobody showed until a man in blue shirt appeared and walked to the elevator.  
   
  “Hey,” he said when he got next to them.  
   
  “Hi, Junior,” said Sam. Alan threw his empty cup into the wastebasket. The third man pushed the call button of the elevator, acting casual.  
   
  “You have family visiting?” asked Junior from Alan, while waiting for the elevator. The older man looked at him, surprised.  
   
  “What?” he asked. “No…”  
   
  “Yes,” said Sam. They looked at each other.  
   
  “Yes,” replied Alan.  
   
  “I see,” said Junior. There was an awkward silence. “From the East Coast as well?”  
   
  “No…” said Alan. “From the UK.”  
   
  “Really? Are they coming often? London is just twelve hours by plane.”  
   
  “Err… They actually live in Scotland,” said Alan. He started to look like someone who was having a cerebral hemorrhage. Sam and Junior stared at him.  
   
  “In Scotland?” asked Junior. The door of the elevator opened, stayed like that for a few seconds and then it closed. Alan took his glasses in his hand and began to rub the base of his nose.  
   
  “It’s quite a drive to the north from Inverness,” said Sam.  
   
  “A long drive,” added Alan.  
   
  “They don’t use the internet,” said Sam. Junior seemed to be shocked.  
   
  “They don’t?” he asked.  
   
  “No,” replied Alan. “Most of the time the phone lines are down too.”  
   
  “How can they live like that!” exclaimed Junior. “Well, you know I was talking to your nephew in the gym and I was wondering…”  
   
  “Don’t wonder,” said Sam firmly.  
   
  “Don’t?” asked Junior.  
   
  “Don’t,” said Alan. “Don’t even talk to him.”  
   
  “What? Why?”  
   
  “Because…” started Alan. He looked at Sam for help.  
   
  “He is very religious,” said Sam quickly. He saw that Alan was getting close to a stroke again.  
   
  “Very,” said the older man. “You might scare him.”  
   
  “I see," said Junior. “Well, it was nice to talk.”  
   
  He began to stalk back toward the offices.  
   
  “You aren’t taking the elevator?” asked Sam, but Junior was gone already.  
   
  “I’m too old for this,” said Alan. Sam tossed his cup away and they walked back to the server room.  
   
  “Making friends?” asked Sam when he entered the room. Tron looked up from his notebook.  
   
  “What?” he asked.  
   
  “We just met Dillinger in the hall.”  
   
  “I met him too, earlier.”  
   
  “You know, there is a good chance that he is behind the threats against Sam,” said Alan.  
   
  “I don’t think so,” replied Tron.  
   
  “Hah! Now are you on his side?” asked Sam.  
   
  “No, I’m just saying I don’t think so,” shrugged Tron.  
   
  They were working until evening and then they started to leave. Alan said goodbye and took the elevator to the parking lot; Sam went back to his office for a file folder. He turned on the light and went to his desk. Tron was behind him and stopped at the door while Sam took the folder. Turning back to the door Sam saw that Tron’s hand fell onto the switch of the light – he glanced back and met his own reflection on the window that was ordered to be shaded since the beginning of the threats. The light went off and Sam felt Tron bringing him down to the floor with a sudden leap. There was a loud, cracking noise and shards of glass fell on the carpet – the bang was followed by several others that shattered whatever was left of the window. Sam was lying on the floor with Tron on top of him; not even a chip of glass hit him. They stayed there until the alarm of the building went on and the sound of approaching sirens came from the street.  
   
\---  
   
  A crowd of people was walking along the corridor: mostly young men and women that surrounded Ed Dillinger, Jr. as he was making his way to his office and was giving orders to his crew. They all gave dark looks to the security guard who stood at the door and checked everyone’s badge with a scanner. The group passed the closed doors of the conference rooms and Junior fell silent for a second; then they left toward the other end of the corridor.  
   
  A few minutes later Junior returned. This time he was alone and there was a smile on his face contrary to his earlier stern look.  
   
  “Hey,” he said to Tron who was sitting on a chair in front of a conference room. “I don’t see you in the gym.”  
   
  “This week I didn’t go,” replied Tron. Junior sat down too.  
   
  “They want you to stick to Flynn?”  
   
  “They don’t, but after what happened, I rather stay. What sort of security pro… professional would wander around in this situation?”  
   
  “Well… But you have to admit, nothing could happen to him really, inside of the building. Everything is full of security personnel.”  
   
  “Yes, we thought the same before, too.”  
   
  “You handled the situation rather well” said Junior, smiling.  
   
  “We got lucky.”  
   
  “And they didn’t find anybody?”  
   
  “No. They found the spot on the roof of the other building, from where the shots came, but that’s it. We don’t know who left the shades open in the office either,” said Tron.  
   
  “You look very concerned,” stated Junior.  
   
  “I’m very concerned.”  
   
  “There is clearly a lot of money on the stake.”  
   
  “Money?”  
   
  “Why, ENCOM is a very profitable company.”  
   
  “Really?” asked Tron skeptically. The other man grinned.  
   
  “Look,” he said. “I’m one of the major stockholders of the company. I have my own penthouse in downtown and I drive a Ferrari 458. I don’t have any loans or mortgages, of course. Here at ENCOM there are thirty people that work directly for me in the software design team.”  
   
  He looked at Tron, clearly expecting an enthralled reaction. Tron stared back, trying to give the most appropriate response.  
   
  “Wow,” he said. Junior was still grinning, desperately now.  
   
  “I attended Stanford,” he said.  
   
  “Very impressive,” replied Tron. “Did you like it?”  
   
  “Yeah, it was alright,” mumbled Junior. “Well, my father wanted me to go there.”  
   
  “I see.”  
   
  “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want it. It’s a great school. I’m actually happy that we agreed about it. I’m sure you had the same with your parents.”  
   
  “Oh, well… I kind of made my own decisions from the beginning,” said Tron. Junior looked at him admiringly.  
   
  “That’s awesome,” he said. The door of the conference room opened and people started to come out. Tron and Junior stood up; the latter one made a face when Sam appeared in the door and he left.  
   
  “I don’t like this thing at all,” said Sam.  
   
  “What thing?” asked Tron. Sam’s cell phone rang and he answered.  
   
  “Alan wants to cancel the charity event tomorrow evening,” he told Tron after the short conversation.  
   
  “But you don’t,” replied Tron. Sam made and angry wave with his hand.  
   
  “Hell, no. They won’t control me.”  
   
  “Good,” nodded Tron.  
   
  “Good?” asked Sam surprisedly. “I thought you would try to change my mind too.”  
   
  “I would, but if there will be such a crowd tomorrow as you say, they will make an attempt for sure. Let them try, rather then just sit and wait.”  
   
  “Err… So tomorrow they will try to kill me?” asked Sam. This time he looked somewhat worried. “But you will be there to cover my ass, won’t you?”  
   
  “I will,” said Tron. They started to walk. “Sam, what is Stanford? And what is a Ferrari 458?”  
   
\---  
   
  “Looks fine so far,” said Alan. The evening was almost over; all the speeches and the dinner passed without any incident.  
   
  “My jaw aches from the constant smiling,” said Sam. Tron looked bored too. They were watching the crowd in the ballroom. Most of the remaining guests were drunk by then.  
   
  “I will get my bag from the office,” said Sam.  
   
  “I’ll go up first to take a look,” replied Tron. They took the elevator and Sam stayed behind while Tron went to the office. The door was open, light came out to the corridor. The program stopped at the door. Inside there was a cleaner behind the desk, a hoover was standing in the middle of the office.  The cleaner looked at him, startled. There was a plastic box in his hand. Tron looked at the window. They had not asked the cleaners about the shades that had been drawn away before the previous incident.  
   
  “Is that for Sam?” asked Tron, gesturing at the box. The cleaner threw it at him and started to run. Tron leant away effortlessly and jumped ahead. He bumped the man down to the floor and kneeled on his back. Sam came to the door in a rush to the sounds of the fight. A cell phone fell to the carpet during the struggle; Tron picked it up and threw it to Sam. Sam took a look at it and checked the last incoming call.  
   
  “It came from someone with the initials R.M.,” he said. “Why am I not surprised?”  
   
\---  
   
  They were standing in front of the building. Some of the police cars were still around; the vehicle of the bomb squad that had picked up the suspicious box had left already. The night was starry and chill. Sam realized that he had not been outside on the street since a while. A smaller group of people was still standing outside, observing the events.  
   
  Someone made his way through the crowd and walked to them.  
   
  “I’ve just heard what happened,” said Junior.  
   
  “I didn’t see you at the dinner,” said Sam.  
   
  “Do I care about your dinner? I was working.”  
   
  “Then you can go back working, because the fun is over,” said Sam.  
   
  “Did they catch the hitman?”  
   
  “My nephew caught him,” said Alan proudly. Junior looked at Tron in awe.  
   
  “They didn’t stand a chance,” he said. Tron afforded himself a small smile.  
   
  “I guess that means that you are off duty now,” added Junior.  
   
  “Yes, but he needs to catch his flight,” said Sam.  
   
  “Already?”  
   
  “I’m afraid so,” replied Alan, though he did not look worried at all.  
   
  “But you will come to visit, won’t you?” asked Junior from Tron.  
   
  “I will.”  
   
  “And I’m going to England, soon. Business meeting.”  
   
  Alan gave a distressed look to Sam.  
   
  “About that you have to talk to my uncle and Sam,” responded Tron. Junior was confused.  
   
  “I have to talk to them if I can go to England?” he asked.  
   
  “Yes,” said Tron. Junior looked at the other two men.  
   
  “Then I will,” he said.  
   
  “And now I have to catch my flight,” said Tron. Lacking a more proper gesture he gave Junior one more smile and he walked to the entrance with Sam and Alan. Junior stayed outside with the lessening group of people. Cold wind blew and the remaining police cars left as well. Another chilly day ended – but it was definitely a good day to live.


End file.
